


Burnt Light

by DimensionWitch



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Fenris/Hawke, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Post Tresspasser, Romance, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, minor Dorian Pavus/Male Inquisitor, minor Dorian Pavus/other character, past Dorian/Male Inquisitor - Freeform, past fenris/hawke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5035783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DimensionWitch/pseuds/DimensionWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was over... done. Dorian had left everything behind - the Inquisition, his friends, the man he loved - and placed upon himself the task of rising the Imperium from the ashes.<br/>Fenris had lost his place in the world after the fall of Kirkwall and heard of the reform in the North.<br/>With the warning of a Qunari invasion hanging over their heads, they must learn how to trust and work together for a better Tevinter - leaving some room for romance.</p><p>THIS FIC IS OFFICIALLY BACK!! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I have just finished "Trespasser" and had this instant idea of Fenris meeting Dorian while the mage tries to renovate Tevinter. I'm going down with this ship and wanted to thank the amazing [ TCRegan ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan) for showing me the greatness of this pair!
> 
> Will be updated weekly (because I have no RL) and tags will eventually change.  
> Hope you like it! ;)

How long had it been? Three, maybe four years? Since when…? Since he left the Inquisition and his _amatus_ behind to restore the Imperium? Since he took his father's seat in the Magisterium and became that which he tried so hard to escape? Or since the moment he looked into the blue grey eyes of the man he loved and realized it was over… there was no turning back.

_“The Inquisition has no claim on Tevinter borders! You and your army are not welcome here!”_

_Lavellan stood at the center of the grand room. His eyes swept over the rows of sitting magisters and carefully landed on Dorian before narrowing at the standing man’s remark._

_“The Inquisition has prevented the Qunari from striking before. If you give us access to your roads we can end this before it becomes a full out war with Tevinter!” his speech was as inflamed as always. For all the good the Inquisitor did he was never able to hide his emotions when confronted and that gave him more problems than solutions._

_“And how do we know you don’t intend to ally with the oxmen and take over?”_

_“That’s preposterous, Lord Bremos!” spoke another magister, standing as well “The Inquisition has worked tirelessly to secure peace in Thedas. You insult their good work by suggesting such an association!”_

_“And has the Inquisition not welcome Qunari under its roof?! Dared to call them “friends” and even attempted an alliance before?”_

_Lavellan’s eyes fell on Dorian once more, ignoring the raging argument and the heated voices that joined. He wondered why the other remained quiet. Why had he not intervened? Dorian knew that look well… once he would have laughed and told him “don’t pout amatus” but not today. Today, he had decided, things would change._

_He tore his gaze from the other and looked down at the crumpled note in his hand. How such simple words could decide one’s fate, change one’s plan for the future. He should have stayed. Maker help him, when that small hand held his arm at the grand gates of the Winter Palace and that voice whispered_ stay _he should have turned around, gathered the man in his arms and never let go. But he smiled sadly instead, left a fleeting kiss on the other’s lips – it would hurt less this way, he thought – and left. Now he knew he was wrong. But as his father used to say_ regret was nothing more than a bad memory –.”

_“… and bad memories are fleeting dreams…” he muttered to himself. With a deep breath he stood and the assembly hushed, eager to hear from the “ambassador”, the pariah who had returned to destroy what took them centuries to build._

_All eyes were on him but his focused on the man at the center. That brave, selfless man who had left everything he knew to join a cause and had been persecuted as a mad man, a heretic and a traitor. This man who had saved them all – who had saved him – and asked for nothing in return. His amatus…_

_“We thank the Inquisitor for this grand offer of help.” the voice sounded distant to his ears as if spoken by a ghost of his former self “It gives the Imperium great comfort to know the Inquisition remains an ally against the Qunari threat and hope the offer to work together remains open in the future.” the words tasted like ash in his tongue but he held his stance. By the grand door he could see Bull – who had not flinched at the heated conversation – stand taller and narrow his eyes in a warning manner. This was it. He took a deep breath…_

_“But we cannot accept your offer.” shouts of indignation rose along with cheers of agreement but all Dorian heard was his increasing heartbeat and all he saw was fleeting hurt in his lover’s eyes before they turned to stone “Whether this threat is real or not it is not in the best interest of the Imperium to allow a foreign power such as the Inquisition to reside on its borders.” he knew this would take his work of redemption back and only prayed it didn’t give the Venatori any reason to rise from the shadows. “We hope you will believe me when I say that you will always find friends here and that all you have done-“_ to save me _“will not be forgotten.”_

_Fighting back any sign of emotion and hoping Lavellan had understood, he bowed slightly and left the room. I was over… done._

**_***_ **

_“I hope you had a very good reason for doing that, Vint.”_

_Dorian didn’t look up from filling his glass, not curious or surprised the Qunari spy had managed to enter his study undetected._

_“If I didn’t are you going to kill me?” he tried for levity but his voice trembled slightly “Hang me from the balcony for all to see? They would like that, you know. And I’d make Varric’s nickname justice.”_

_“Cut the crap, Dorian.” the other all but growled “You just turned down major help against the Antaam, gave the Vanatori ground on your renovation and-”_

_“Broke his heart… yes, I know.” he turned, finally facing Bull and the Qunari softened at the shattered expression on the mage’s face “I had to, Bull. I couldn’t let… I couldn’t let all we’ve fought for, all the Inquisition's work to go up in flames, once again over something my idiot countrymen thought invaluable to restoring our former glory!”_

_Bull did growl this time “Speak plainly, Vint.” Dorian reached into his pocket and handed him the crumpled note._

D.

No news on the Qunari threat. Inquisitor will offer support. Refuse!

Nightingale

_“Shit… Should you be carrying this around?” Bull asked._

_“No.” Dorian took the note from his hand and set it on fire, shaking the ashes from between his fingers._

_“So you’re in contact with Red. Why doesn’t she want us to help? She accepted the inquisition’s role in the Exalted Council.”_

_Dorian sighed and took a large gulp of his drink “Because if the Inquisition – one of the major army forces in Thedas – leaves to help Tevinter, not only does it get a bad reputation but it leaves the seat open for Orlais to take over. They are already against most of the Divine’s reforms and she told me they are becoming careless with their threats. Duke Cyril all but declared war on the Chantry if she continued.”_

_“So we’re needed back home. Damn…Why didn’t she tell us this, then? The Inquisitor would have-”_

_“The Inquisitor would have wanted to save everyone and probably kill himself in the process. He would save Tevinter for the Qunari and then swoop down and conquered Orlais. No! This is our mess, my mess. I will not have him die for his damn sense of nobility!”_

_“So you broke his heart.”_

_Dorian chuckled humorously “Would he have given up otherwise…?”_

_Bull growled in a way that meant he knew Dorian was right and hated it. He turned to leave but the mage’s voice stopped him._

_“Take care of him.” no_ for me _. Nothing about the Inquisitor was for him now and it would never be again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated but not mandatory :)


	2. (in)action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the trip down memory lane...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't wait to share this with you so early update! :)  
> What do you think of this broken/angry Dorian? I wanted him to be powerful and respected like he rarely was before...

A knock on the door startled him from his thoughts. A brief glance at himself showed he was in the middle of buttoning his robe when memory took him. A memory long past…

“Enter.” his voice was deeper now and he missed the jovial tone he once had.

An elven man stepped into the room and gave a short bow “Lady Tilani has arrived, my lord. She is waiting by the lobby.”

“Thank you, Arell.” the other bowed again and carefully closed the door. Dorian sighed and took a long look in the body sized mirror in front of him. His once short hair was now shoulder-length and he wore it caught on the sides, letting the rest fall. His once proud mustache now shared the space with a stylized beard, thought nowhere near as imposing as Blackwall’s and his body had maintained the fine toned muscles he worked hard to keep – magister or not he wouldn't become fat and lazy like the others who shared the tittle. The change that struck him the most though were his eyes… throughout his years they had managed to maintain a certain boyish gaze, always ready with a wink or a roll. Now they were hard, sad and the slight green tint had almost faded.

He shook his head, finished buttoning his jade colored robe and left to meet his, finally, returned friend.

“Mae!” he called walking down the stairs "How was Ferelden?"

"Full of dog shit., as usual." the woman’s smirk has she took in his appearance never failed to bring a sense of his former self to the surface “My, my… we _are_ dressed to impress, aren’t we?”

“Trust me, my dear. With that cleavage you’ll outshine us all.”

She flipped her blonde hair and planted a kiss on his cheek, grimacing slightly at the scratch of his beard “Honestly, darling. It’s time you got rid of this, don’t you think? _People_ will have a hard time kissing you if they can’t find your lips.” she teased running a finger through his jaw.

“It’s hardly a feat among beards, Mae.” it was barely a stubble “And _people_ should be more concerned with ruling the country and less concerned with my body parts.” knowing full well who she meant.

“You should be pleased to have him look at you. I swear he only attends these Maker forsaken parties to catch a glimpse of you and your body parts.” he ignored her twinkling eyes roaming over him and helped her into her coat, making their way to the door “You could at least lean a bit his way. He could help with our cause.”

“You are not suggesting I whore myself out to the Archon in hopes of gathering favors, are you, Mae dear?”

“Of course not, darling. I’m suggesting you spend some quality time with a gorgeous and powerful man who may, then, find in his heart the will to help us poor mages.” her smile was infectious and Dorian rolled his eyes and pushed her out the door “Besides… I hear his staff is-.”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

***

Magister Linus _little soirees_ as he liked to call them, always left something to be desired, though Dorian was sure it wasn’t the wine since he had at least three glasses since arriving. It didn’t escape his attention how Mae had to stir the man’s conversation to other topics when he so helpfully tried to remind Dorian how he had stood against Lord Bremos when the Inquisitor had offered support. Dorian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back a headache he wasn’t such was due to the wine or the company.

Mae had finally managed to drag the man away, throwing a wink at Dorian and receiving a thankful smile in return when a voice spoke next to him.

“He always did lack a certain… _tact_.” Dorian didn’t have to look to know the man beside him was none other than Archon Radonis. Both men kept their gazes forward, as if making eye contact would break some form of social etiquette – though Dorian had broken many of those in his lifetime, especially when it came to beautiful men “Good wine, though.”

“To what do I owe the honor of your company, my lord?” Dorian didn’t bother hiding his derision and the other man chuckled.

“Come now, Dorian. We’ve been like this at every gathering since that little display you made at the square. Must we continue to walk around in circles?”

“The display” – as it had become known – had happen two months ago. Dorian took to walking the streets in a useless effort to clear his head from the trouble festering in his life. He walked the high gardens, the market and the fountain, always staying clear from the dark corner where slaves were bought and sold. Fate wiled it, that day that he turned the corner and was faced with a group of people gathering by a wooden stage.

An elven girl cried and screamed as she was forced apart from what Dorian could only suspect was her mother, to be sold to a fat, ugly looking man who grinned in a way that made Dorian’s stomach clench. If the man was a magister he had never seen him but the three guards flanking him left no room for how wealthy he was.

“I only want the girl! Keep the hag; she’s no use to me.”

The girl screamed and kicked, trying to get away but her hands were tied and the slaver held her by the wrists, like she was a piece of rag. He threw her at the fat man’s feet and when the mother tried to run to her child he slapped her hard enough to knock her down.

Dorian took a deep breath and looked away. _No point getting involved, Dorian. You can’t change everything at once_ he thought _There are more pressing matters –_

 _\- bullshit!_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Bull spoke in his head. He gave a bitter laugh at the irony of it all. Although, he supposed, he should be thankful the voice didn’t sound like Lavellan - the man had always been good at actions, not words.

Another cry caught his attention as the fat man pulled the girl by the hair and brought her close enough that he could smell her “Oh, yes! She’ll do just fine. Won’t you, pretty thing?” he laughed, showing his yellowed teeth “Oh I want to mark that soft skin of yours. Just a few little scars… Elves have such soft skin.” he put both hands around her neck and she struggled to breath “I’ll make you into a work of art. Leave my mark all over your small” his hands roamed to her breasts “firm” her hips “body” and her bottom pulling her closer.

Dorian had decided he had seen enough and told Bull’s voice to shut the Void up when a flash of blue light caught his eye; but before he could find the source, the girl’s nails carved into the man’s face and he screamed in pain, covering his eye. She dodged one of the guards and ran in Dorian’s direction, literally falling at his feet.

_Do something Pavus!_

She took in his appearance and even though he looked nothing like the other man he still dressed as a Magister and she was torn between crawling away or trying to run again. Before any of them could decide what to do, two of mans' the guards ran in their direction, swords in hand and Dorian’s instincts took over. He twirled his staff over his head than hit the ground like he had done a hundred times in battle; lightening fell from the sky and caught the two guards who fell instantly to the floor, shaking in pain. The fat man yelled something incomprehensible with his face half-covered and the third guard also tried to attack Dorian. He was quick with a Winter Grasp and the man froze mid-run. He looked down at the girl by his feet and was about to speak when his staff went flying from his hand and fell a few feet away. He glanced at the other and saw he held a meager looking staff, smilling triumphantly. _Now this is not acceptable!_ If looks could kill the fat man would have turned to ash with the strength of Dorian’s glare. This little quarrel had been enough to remind him of other times; of battles fought and won and it raised an anger in him he had thought quenched. A sudden desire to do more; to _be_ more!

“Bullshit indeed…” he whispered with a deadly grin before waving his hand, like on would swat a fly, and sending the man crashing into a seller’s stand. A snap of his fingers and the frozen man melted and fell to the ground, before running to check on his master.

Dorian knelt and covered the girl curled at his feet with his cloak, helping her up. He led her to the slaver and spoke in his calmest tone “How much for the two?”

The slaver looked around at the mess, then at the elves, then at Dorian and wrung his heads “Well… you see, my lord… They’re my last ones. I can’t just sell them for any price-.” Dorian threw a pouch at the man and curled his lip in disgust when the other’s face lit up at the sight of gold “Oh yes! This will do fine, my lord!” he pushed the older woman in Dorian’s direction and she ran to hold her daughter as the mage climbed to the stage and leaned as close as one could with the rotten smell.

“You will take your business elsewhere.” he said in a deadly whisper “If I so much as hear you stepped foot in my borders again, you will loose more than two slaves.” the other was about to retort but thought better and nodded, running away with his gold. Dorian, then, picked up his staff and moved to the fat man, no standing up and cowering behind his, also shaking, guard “I like this staff.” he said in his best charming impersonation (thought he felt something missing from other times) “It was a gift, you see? From someone I hold most dear. I _detest_ not having it with me and puny, little, excuses of men tearing it from my grasp leaves me in a very foul mood.” he moved closer and the guard actually stepped away, his master still clutching his blood soaked face, eyes moving from Dorian to the staff “Luckily for you, that’s going to leave a nasty scar or I would have to find some other way to make you remember this day. And I wouldn’t use my hands.”

He turned to find the two women still holding each other and staring at him “You are free to go.” he said and moved past them.

“Go where, my lord?” said the eldest “We have no home.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. _Wonderful, Dorian. Now you have slaves. Oh, father would be proud._

“I’m a good cook and my daughter can sow. We won’t be any trouble…”

He had this conversation with the Inquisitor once. How being a slave was sometimes better than the alternative. This was one of those cases, he hated to admit “Come along then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are curious, Dorian's looks come from the "Trespasser Epilogue" - namely these 2 images (SPOILERS AHEAD!!)
> 
> [ HERE ](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/B2k6gFRE4xg/hqdefault.jpg)  
> [ HERE ](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/-nRhap_xWKU/maxresdefault.jpg)  
>    
> Comments are appreciated but not mandatory :)


	3. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this would be updated weekly but I’m having so much fun writing it and I have an obscene amount of free time xD  
> Thank you for all the lovely reviews, kudos and support! 
> 
> \- tags updated

Ah yes… that incident. The day Dorian had gotten himself two new slaves – if he didn’t pay them. True, he couldn’t simply give them coin for their work; if word got out it would be social, political and most likely real death. A magister paying his slaves? _Nonsense!_ Frankly he wasn’t sure they would even take the coin. He remembered when he first returned to Tevinter and took home in his family’s house in Minrathous; he had visited his mother in Quarinus, gathered his belongings and left. Arell was the only slave he took with him but the man eventually took it upon himself to gather a few more – enough for the house to function.

When Dorian insisted on paying him for his service Arell declined and said he wanted nothing more than to be of help to his young master, who he had cared for all those years. Dorian then – after a brief syrupy moment – agreed to pay Arell and the other servants with small improvements to their lifestyle. Oh many Magisters liked their slaves well dressed, to impress guests and such but once the parties were over it was back to the slum. Dorian improved their lodgings, clothing, made sure they were warm, fed and slept and had Arell arrange the working hours and conditions as best he could. If they wouldn’t take coin, they would take kindness.

“Am I boring you?” came the Archon’s deep timbre.

“Not at all, my lord.” he tried his best smile “This party however is proving to be somewhat dull.”

“Luckily for you I am excellent company.” he moved closer and placed his hand on the small of Dorian’s back “In fact… why don’t we speak privately elsewhere? I hear you have the most fascinating stories.”

“Idle gossip, I assure you.” thinking about tales of the Inquisition wasn’t the best idea “And you have still to answer my question. Why the sudden interest in me? Other than the fact that I’m charming.” he tried but the last sentence seemed fake even to him. Luckily the other man didn’t seem to notice and gave a low laugh, making Dorian’s skin crawl pleasently.

“That you are. But I have already told you… I’m tired of this cat and mouse game.” he moved his hand slowly up Dorian’s back and the man had to contend a shiver, eyes almost falling shut “For months now we have met and talked idly of things not important.” he moved even closer and his breath ghosted Dorian’s face. To others it would seem they were in secretive talks, if they cared – or dared – to look “You act unimpressed and I act uninterested until we meet again and the frustration only grows.”

“Frustration…?” he managed to say, forcing his brain to work when that voice and that hand reminded a slightly ignored part of his anatomy what a man’s presence was.

“I want you.” this time he couldn’t hold back the shiver and his mouth opened slightly to draw breath “And I enjoyed chasing you. I enjoyed watching you resist. Now…” the hand moved down the curve of his ass and squeezed, and Dorian couldn’t help a low whimper “I want my prize.”

“And wh… what makes you so certain I want _you_ and not your influence?” _Well done, Pavus!_ _End this damn game before you go too far!_ It was one thing to fantasize and another to actually sleep with the Archon. _Maybe you have a thing for powerful men…_ he thought as he stole a glance the other’s way. He was well-built, tall, long legs and tanned skin; his hair was sandy blonde – not as light as Cullen’s – and his eyes as dark as night. He looked at Dorian like a cat wanting to taste the cream and he fought not to melt. Of course this wasn’t his first man since Lavellan. Four years was a long time and Dorian managed to find some solace in sex with men he didn’t care much for. It was like returning to his younger years – to before.

“You have more than enough influence of your own. Did you think I wouldn’t consider all my option before approaching you? You want help with you reform but you are too proud to ask for it; you sleep with man you hardly know because it make you feel in control” his breath ghosted Dorian’s ear in a more than evident way “you hide how powerful you are when the truth is you could take down the Magisterium with a few simple words – I know what you left behind.” Dorian’s eyes widened at this but he made no move to leave “Rumors of the Inquisitor and a lost lover abound but I was there; I saw his hurt when you refused his help. I know that a word from you and he would come running.” _he wouldn’t…_ “But you don’t need him or me. You’re strong enough on your own.”

Dorian faced him, smirk in place “Are you trying to encourage me or take me to bed?”

The other chuckled “I doubt we’ll be able to find a bed this time. Perhaps on another occasion… And I am trying to answer your question. I want you” his hand moved to the front of Dorian’s robes and pulled him close by the ornate belt, making him gasp “because you’re you.”

***

Not finding a bed was an understatement. Dorian found himself shoved harshly against the library door as soon as it closed behind him, the Archon’s bodyguards on the other side. The man’s lips found his in a bruising kiss and Dorian melted like butter. His hands went immediately to the other man’s robe but Radonis had other plans. He pinned Dorian’s hands to the door and thrust his hips in a slow, decadent motion that made the mage whimper in complete loss of his body.

“Open your eyes.” spoke the deep timbre and Dorian was compelled to obey every word. The other grinned “Good boy.”

His mouth latched onto Dorian’s neck and he sucked and nibbled, threatening to leave a mark but never applying enough force. Dorian liked this… he liked relishing control from time to time - and who better to do it with than the man who ruled them all? Radonis’ large built covered Dorian’s smaller frame from chest to toe and the full weight of him nearly sent the mage over the edge. The slow thrust of hips suddenly stopped and the Archon backed away. Dorian felt a sudden rush of cold and shivered, the other’s predatory gaze promising much more.

“On the desk…” he whispered and, once again, Dorian obeyed. He moved past the Archon – dark eyes following his every move – and leaned on the wooden desk, breathing heavily “Try not to make a mess of things.”

Dorian wondered if that was possible when the desk was filled with papers, books and easily broken items. Still, when those hands found his ass and hauled him onto the surface all thought for care was lost. His legs parted and he crossed his ankles around the other man, pulling him closer.

“You’re so quiet. I’ll admit I was expecting you to be more… vocal.”

Dorian gave him his best seductive look – one that had pulled many men to their knees – and reached up to lick his bottom lip, causing the man to draw breath “Give me a reason to be…”

Before he knew it, his hands were gripping the edge of the desk and his neck was exposed to a hot mouth, demanding its pound of flesh. His hips rose to meet the other’s thrusts, the friction too much to bear. He tried to move a hand between them, to ease the constriction of his clothes but his hand was forced back to the table and held there. Radonis bit disapprovingly at his jaw and his thrusts became more forceful causing some items to fall from the desk but Dorian couldn’t be bothered to care. The intensity of it all was driving him mad and he had long been given reason to cry and moan as loudly as the other wanted him to. The fact that they could be heard made it all the more exciting, reminding Dorian of the quick trysts of his youth.

“Next time…” Radonis whispered between – not so silent - moans "I will have you on a bed. Completely.” the meaning behind those words, plus the pain of teeth sinking into his shoulder allowed him one last thrust before he came; knuckles white from gripping the desk, he rose to meet the other’s violent push and the world turned black.

When he came to, Radonis was leaning on him, chest heaving with labored breath. He planted a light kiss on Dorian’s new mark – which made him shiver – and pulled away. The sudden loss almost made Dorian loose his balance but he was quick to recover, sliding from the desk and making sure nothing had been ruined beyond repair.

“Well…” began the Archon as he strained his clothes and hair, a grin on his face “ _That_ was certainly worth the wait.”

Dorian re-arranged his own clothes, not quite meeting the other’s eye “I rarely disappoint.” he was forced to look up when Radonis placed a hand under his chin and left a mouth-open kiss that made his knees tremble.

“Until next time… Lord Pavus.”

***

When Mae asked him for details he had none to give. He had spent the last four years being the one in control and to have that taken from him had been both exhilarating and terrifying. With Lavellan, he knew how far to go; he had rarely given himself to the other man except in moments when his _amatus_ had needed him to but being the inquisitor left him wanting Dorian to make the decisions.

But this was the Archon. The most powerful man in the Imperium and he wanted Dorian to submit to him, to let him take charge. And the frightening thing was Dorian wanted him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenris will be coming soon...  
> Please let me know what you think and feel free to share ideas :) I'm always interested!


	4. (in)action - part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for Fenris to make an appearance!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update! I had a nasty flu and I'm just recovering.  
> Not entirely happy with this chapter but wanted to give you something to look forward to :)

“Messere, please… These are important documents. Not drafts for your wild tales.” Bran sighed as he tried to salvage whatever papers he could from Varric’s hands.

“Probably the only wild thing left in my life…” grumbled the dwarf.

“You can write on your spare time.” continued the Senechal “Meanwhile, there are land claims to be verified and the Guard Captain insists that you – and I quote – “get off your lazy dwarven ass and find the coin to fund the new recruitment program.”

Varric mumbled something that sounded like “ungrateful bastards” and looked down at the mountain of paperwork awaiting him “Remind me again why I’m sitting in this chair and not at the Hanged Man drinking and gambling away my family’s money?”

“Because you couldn’t resist the crown?” that over-familiar voice never failed to brighten his day.

“Hawke! You’re back! Please tell me that something needs killing and my help is invaluable.”

“No such luck, buddy.” the other grinned and he walked to the desk.

“Well… a man can dream…”

“Not until he finished these land claims.” said Bran dropping more papers on the pile.

“You’ve got five seconds before Bianca finds your soft spot.”

If Bran was used to anything it was Varric’s constant threats. He never went through with them and he never managed to skip work so Bran did what he always did – rolled his eyes and walked away.

“So, need something?” the dwarf asked his friend “These papers aren’t going anywhere.”

“I thought you liked calling the shots around here.” the other smirked “It never bothered you before.”

“Dealing with the Coterie is easier than dealing with this lot. I can’t even sneeze the wrong way. And have you seen the crown? Have you?!”

“I have. It was on the previous Viscount’s head as it rolled down the stairs if I remember correctly.”

“Don’t remind me… It just makes it worse.” he sighed “Anyway, you didn’t come all the way here to hear me complain and you certainly didn’t come to help with the paperwork so…”

“Any word from Tevinter?” Hawke asked, turning serious.

“Straight to the point as always. What about it?”

“That mage from the Inquisition… is it true he’s trying to reform it?”

Varric chuckled “Sparkler always did love drama. If there is an impossible task to be taken, he’s the man for the job.”

“And how does the Inquisition fit in all this?”

“It doesn’t… Things didn’t really go well on that front.”

“So he’s on his own? Against a whole country?”

“Don’t forget the Qunari invasion lurking in the shadows.” Varric tried to humor but Hawke turned more serious by the minute “What’s this about Hawke? Miss being in the midst of battle with ancient evils and horned giants?”

His friend sighed and slumped on the ornate chair “It’s Fenris… He heard about this reform while we were in Denerim and he wants to see it for himself.”

“I’m sorry. It sounded like you said Broody wants to go back to Tevinter. By his two naked feet.”

“I did. That’s why I was wondering… if the Inquisition isn’t there, if this mage doesn’t have an army behind him… I’m not letting him go on his own.”

“It is not you decision to make.”

Varric was more than used to Fenris’ glare – he had been on the receiving end often enough – but it never failed to surprise him how dark the elf could get. Hawke instantly sprung from the chair and raised both hands in surrender.

“Fenris, I know you don’t like it but think about this. Even if you _do_ find the mage there’s no guarantee you won’t be in danger.”

“I have been in danger all my life, Hawke.”

“Don’t feel like breaking that particular pattern?” Varric pipped in.

“I would think you of all people would agree with me. Isn’t the mage your friend? If I can help-.”

“Help with what?!” Hawke almost screamed in frustration “He’s one mage against the whole Imperium! There is no one else! If you go there you will end up a slave again or worse.”

“I am not one of your victims, Hawke! I have proven my worth time and time again. Why do you insist on this?!”

“Because I can’t understand why you would want to return to a place that nearly destroyed you!”

Silence fell. Fenris’ eyes were wide as he stared at the mage. Hawke, on the other hand, was conscious enough to lower in head, though if he really regretted his words or just knew how to play it no one knew. Varric was about to speak when Bran’s head peeked through the door and Fenris took the opportunity to stomp away, followed by a running Hawke.

“Perfect timing, as usual.” Varric deadpanned.

***

Hawke caught up with Fenris on the way down from the Viscount’s Keep, grabbing his arm “Wait! I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-.”

“Yes, you did.” the elf sighed and lowered his head, white hair covering his face “And you were right. I have no reason to return to Tevinter nor did I ever think I would. But I’m lost here, Hawke… Kirkwall… It’s not the same anymore.”

“What do you mean? Of course it is! Sure it needs new walls, a bit of paint and some crazy apostates other than me but it’s still here. It’s still home.”

“It’s not. Not for me.” he pulled his arm free of Hawke’s grasp and turned to face him. This man meant more to him than any other and yet he couldn’t understand; couldn’t see that nothing was has it had been “I came to Kirkwall to escape my former life; to be free. I met you and the others and I… I felt warm; at home. And once Danarius was dead I still had a reason – I still had a _purpose_ – to be by your side. Your friend, your right arm, your-.”he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose “That’s all gone now. I live for the sake of living. I want more, I _need_ more. A new purpose! Something worth fighting for…”

“And you think you’ll find that in Tevinter…? One look at you and they’ll put you in chains.”

“Let them try! If I can prevent what happened to me from happening to anybody else, than it’s worth trying.”

Hawke smiled sadly “When did you become so determined to help?”

“Your bad influence, I’d wager.”

They stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity. People passed them by, glancing at the Champion and his elven companion, who were lost in thought.

“I’ll go with you.” Hawke finally said.

“No.” Fenris immediately answered, hoping to end the discussion but Hawke was like a dog with a bone when it came to crazy ideas.

“Yes. You will not go unless I go with you.”

“You don’t own me, Hawke!”

“That’s not what I… Maker, why do you always have to be so difficult?” he pulled at his hair and took a deep breath “You know I care about you, Fenris. Even if we’re not… you know I…”

“I do.” Fenris’ fingers brushed against Hawke’s in a comforting gesture and the mage managed a small – although not entirely convincing – smile “But I’m still going. Alone.”

***

_“What is the mage’s name?”_

_“Well, I call him Sparkler but you might find him by Pavus… Dorian Pavus.”_

 

Tevinter hadn’t changed at all. It was still an opulent and golden covered slaver’s realm and as soon as Fenris stepped his bare feet on its dusty floors he was face to face with a fat man buying a young girl – no doubt for twisted games.

He kept his head low, watching the exchange, a feeling of dread and helplessness eating away at him as he wondered what could be done. _Nothing._ Nothing could be done without revealing himself. He pulled the black cloak tighter around himself to cover as best he could. Hawke had convinced him to at least wear long sleeves and even though the markings were still visible - damn Danarius! – he was less conspicuous.

“Please! Not my daughter! Please!”

“Quiet down!”

The slaver slapped the older woman and Fenris’ rage threated to take control. _Do it! Rip is heart out! You’re stronger than them._

His markings flared to life.

_Do it._

He walked towards the man.

_Now!_

And stopped.

 

“That’s him…”

“The Ambassador…”

“Wasn’t he…?”

“… Inquisition…?!”

“What is he doing?!”

 

In a second the man’s guards were taken from the fight and the Magister tried to help the girl to her feet. When his staff was thrown from his hand Fenris actually felt sorry for the fat man – no one should be on the receiving end of those eyes.

The fight over and the man told the elves to leave. Fenris was more surprised by this than by their rejection of the offer. When they left with their new master Fenris took action. He followed the slaver through the streets until the man stopped in an alley. He laughed hysterically and counted the new golden coins in his bag with a skinning grin.

He barely had time to register the figure walking in his direction before Fenris’ fist was plunged deep into his rotten chest.

“Who was that man?” he asked with as much calm as he could muster. The man did nothing but stutter and Fenris was forced to asked again, twisting his hand for extra measure “Who?!”

“The… the magister… from… the Inq *gasp* Inquisition.”

That he knew. He needed confirmation – a name. A lead to follow.

“Give me a name.”

“P… Pavus. Dorian Pavus…”

“Where does he live?”

“I… I don’t know. They say… here… Minrathous *gasp* family house…”

Fenris leaned closer, trying hard not to let the man’s stench change his expression; dark eyes boring into the other’s soul before he ripped the man’s heart from his chest and let it drop like trash on the slaver’s corpse.

Whipping his hand on the other’s cloak he picked up the coin bag and took off to find Magister Pavus, somewhere in Minrathous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think and feel free to share ideas :) I'm always interested!


	5. Ghost lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost time for the boys to meet!  
> Have a look at my new work [Ships in the Night ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5194724/chapters/11970962) a Dorian/Hawke fanfic! ;)

One week days had passed. One week of nothing but searching for a man who, obviously, did not want to be found. Oh Fenris knew his address – it was difficult not to. The Ambassador was a popular figure in Tevinter either for joining the Inquisition and saving the world or for being an embarrassment to his country and a disappointment to his family. The problem was finding the man himself. Fenris had stroll the High Garden’s where the magister was known to roam; he had waited – as inconspicuously as possible – by the man’s front gates and had even taken to know where he purchased supplies, robes, scents and books. As all decent magisters, Pavus sent elves to gather his shopping except for the robes – which were custom made and the tailor visited him at home – and the books – which he had been known to collect himself but had taken to send an older elf in his stead. It was almost as if he as afraid to leave the house.

Fenris had seen this older elf before roaming about the manor’s gates and his clothes easily expressed his rank among the slaves. He thought about approaching him but decided against it – it could bring him trouble and he didn’t want to appear menacing when he was there to help.

His third letter – it was more of a note since information couldn’t be passed around carelessly - to Varric complained, once again, of his inability to reach the Ambassador and, as usual, the reply wasn’t all that helpful.

_F._

_Sparkler is a creature of habits. He loves his books as much as he loves his hair so he wouldn’t trust just anyone to retrieve them. Also, keep an eye on his staff – he’s bound to take very good care of it considering it was a gift from… well, you know._

_Don’t get killed,_

_V._

Fenris red the note again wondering what the dwarf meant. The staff was important to Pavus. He remembered the man’s words at the market - _I like this staff… It was a gift… from someone I hold most dear_ – and tried to remember what the weapon looked like. It was made of some form of metal; obsidian maybe so not very rare. An elegant yet sharp blade adorned the tip and at the top three snakes gathered around a deep blue gem, holding it between their teeth. The staff was beautiful and caused an impression – otherwise Fenris doubted he would have remembered the thing – but it seemed, as far as staves go, _ordinary_. And yet the fat man at the market had cowered when faced with the weapon up close. There was definitely more to it than met the eye. And as for who offered it, Fenris had heard the rumors but decided to ignore them on the premise that he had far more important things to worry about.

Still, if the man cared for his staff so much, he must have it polished somewhere. Or did he buy the polish and do it himself? Fenris feared it was the second option.

A knock on the door startled him and he was quick to put on his robe and cover his face and body. He opened the door a slit and was met with the lovely face of a young woman with dark red hair. He couldn’t remember her name but knew she was the daughter of the innkeeper who had, _so graciously_ , accept his coin with little to no questions. All the better for Fenris.

The girl smiled at him – or at what she actually saw of him – and blushed slightly “Supper is served. Would you like to eat downstairs with the other guests or here, like before?”

When he answered “Here.” she looked dazed, as if his voice was a drug. Hawke had told him once how his voice affected others but he refused to believe it. The girl nodded, shyly and walked downstairs.

A few minutes later, he set on the floor, back to the bed, eating a bowl of steaming hot porridge and thinking, once again, of Dorian Pavus.

***

The answer came to him as he shook another nightmare. Tangled in the sheets, sweaty skin and panting breaths he walked to the window for the small comfort of light in the dark room. He shook Danarius, Hadriana, Varania and all other ghosts from his mind as they fought to grasp at him. He should have known returning wouldn’t be without consequences. A glance out the window, to the barely lit street reminded him of the flow of light and color in the streets outside Danarius’ mansion, in the higher part of town. How magic kept all things afloat and the nights were never dark. He used to take solace in those small moments, when sleep eluded him. Danarius had known how to keep him satisfied and made sure he had a large window to see the streetlights; he also made sure to remind Fenris that the lower part of town had no magic to scare away the demons of night.

Fenris lit his markings to gather as much light as possible and relished in the thought that he had been strong enough to earn his freedom and that, no matter the nightmares, the ghosts of his past could never be revived.

His eyes widened at the realization. He ran to find Varric’s earlier notes, stuffed away in his pack along with change of clothes, food, extra daggers (how he missed his longsword) and finally found it. He read it three times and finally understood. The fat man’s fear, the blue gem… everything fell into place.

_(…) I can tell you a few things about Sparkler. He won’t back down if things become too hard but he will complain about it; he will flirt with anyone that comes his way but that’s really just a defense mechanism (he doesn’t’ think we know); he secretly loves Fereldan ale but will never admit it and he takes his style very seriously._

_Oh, and he’s a Necromancer. Creepy, right…?_

Indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave an opinion or suggestion! Comments are very appreciated! :)


	6. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick note from yours truly... ^^

Just a quick note to let you all know this story is, in no way whatsoever, dropped! I have, simply, been overwhelmed by that pesky RL lately and haven't found the time to write.  
The story is all planned out - it's simply a matter of getting it to digital paper =D

Thank you all so much for your support and I hope you will stick around for the lovely misadventures of our boys (and girls) <3

p.s: let me know if there is a particular couple you would like to read about. I might feel inspired to do it ;)


	7. Like a Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My muse made and appearance so I decided to update a couple of projects :)  
> It's small but I hope you like it! Thank you so much fro your patience! You are all amazing! <3

Lady Aquinea Pavus had many reasons to scowl. The main reason was the fact that she was forced to travel from Qarinus all the way to Minrathous simply to speak with her son. The second reason was the fact that said son had yet to reply to any of her dozen letters. One would think he would at least care to let his mother know he was alive since he refused to live with his remaining family.

One glance out the carriage’s small window told her rain was soon to fall, if the dark clouds were any indication. She hates those hot, rainy days when it seemed the water fell to mock them and never really wet anything for more than a few minutes. She hoped to reach the manor before such jeering occurred.

There was a jolt as her carriage suddenly stopped, the horses whining and the men yelling orders. She tried to open the door but one of her guards blocked it.

“Stay inside, my lady. It is not safe!”

From there all she could do was hear the screams, the scrape and clash of metal and yelled orders. Yet, she was not afraid. It wasn’t the first and it would not be the last time she would be the target of an assassination – such was the Tevinter way – and, quite honestly, it bothered her more that her journey had been interrupted than the interruption itself.

She reached for her staff, always safe at her side. The grip was darkened ironbark, carved with intricate patterns; the blade a long curved edge in silverite and at the top, nested between a wooden shaped crown was an emerald colored gem. She held the weapon at the ready and waited for the last sound to die.

Opening the door and carelessly pushing aside the dead guard’s body with it, she stepped out, green robes snaking behind her and black hair falling in perfect curls on her shoulders. Her black leather boots clunked where the heel met the stone pavement and she stopped, green eyes taking in the scene before her.

All her men were dead in a large red puddle on the floor – _Soporati_ never lasted long in her service – and she sneered, mouth and nose covered by a small, black see-trough veil. She walked carefully over the corpses, lifting the hem of her robes just high enough to not stain and rounded the carriage, petting the frightened horses that calmed under her touch.

Some of the men – the attackers – wore black hooded robes with golden serpents and they all lay just as dead as her guards, the only difference being the carnage wreck of their bodies as opposed to the cleaner wounds on the others. Someone else had done it… and as she rounded the carriage she found herself staring straight at him. Dark skin, bright white hair and glowing marks that left the burning taste of lyrium on her lips. She would know that creature anywhere.

“Do I have you to thank for this… _display?_ ” she asked.

He turned to her, green eyes blazing and bloody daggers in hand. His marks never diminished but she didn’t expect them to.

“Can you speak? Or do you just go about saving random Ladies and killing villains on the road?”

“They are not villains simply because they wish you dead.” he all but growled.

“I suppose not. But, then, again, one could argue it is only a matter of perspective.” he remained silent, still posed as if expecting a strike but her staff remained firmly in her grip “Which is why I wonder about your presence here today. Some might see you as a helping hand, saving a valued and powerful member of the Imperium, who found herself surrounded by evil assassins. Others would see you as an obstacle, who ruined a perfectly capable assassination attempt.”

“Which do you see?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

She smirked under the veil “Neither. I see you in the right place, at the right time which leads me to believe you either knew about this attempt beforehand because you are involved-.”

He scoffed. As if he needed a group if idiots to take down one mage. Powerful or not.

“Or you used that knowledge to make an appearance at a most opportune moment.” at his glare she merely smiled mockingly “Like I said… _perspective._ ”

It became a staring contest – or _glaring contest_ – for a few more minutes before she turned and walked back to the horses. He cautiously returned the daggers to his belt and took a few deep breaths to calm his markings and his heart rate before following.

“Aren’t you going to ask why?” he said.

She ignored him, releasing he horses from the carriage and mounting. If he was surprised to see a lady mount a horse like a man he kept it to himself and it only made her more intrigued “We can discuss your motived once we reach my son’s manor. It ill rain soon and I will not arrive any less presentable than I am now.”

He wanted to roll his eyes at the absurdity of her worries but took the reins of the second horse and climbed on.

“Do you have a name, elf?”

He scowled darkly but she never blinked, waiting.

“Fenris…” he muttered.

“You may call me Lady Pavus thought I’m certain you already knew.” there was a brief flash of lighting and she frowned at the clouds “I hope you are good rider, Fenris. I do detest being late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the next update won't take so long...  
> Follow my tumblr: http://underlanddigital.tumblr.com ^o^


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